746 days
by effulgentcolors
Summary: I have a head-canon about how our favourie pirate and princess get engaged. Spoiler: Emma is not a very patient woman.


So here's the thing: they have been together for two years now. Not that two years is a long time, mind you, but it's not little either. It's… two years. 730 days. Well, 746 actually but who's counting, right?

(She's counting and nobody is ever going to find that out, if she has any say in it, but _of course_ she's counting, she's been counting since the moment he showed up on her doorstep in all his blue-eyed, leather-clad, modern-man glory, with a freaking red rose in his hand, and she knows he's probably counting since they came back from the past and yeah, alright, but she _also_ knows she can be a bit… prickly and she doesn't let her guard down easily and _that_ was it for her, the day he and she officially became a _we_ in her head.)

So, yeah, 746 days. The number kind of jumps at Emma in the early hours as she watches the morning light sneak in and immediately make its way toward Killian's face, sliding smoothly over his left ear and following the line of his jaw. Her fingers ghost over his chest, tangling lightly in the short hairs they encounter on their way. She's a great fan of his habit of sleeping bare-chested.

Bottom lip firmly captured between her teeth, Emma feels her brows furrow as she tries to shake off the last remnants of sleep, her thoughts immediately sneaking in their place. She can't really say that it's the first time she has thought about _it_. Then again 746 days is nothing to scoff at, if you ask her.

She knows how he rubs his nose into the pillow when he starts waking, it scrunches up in the most adorable shape she can imagine a person's nose taking and he emits this little unhappy whimper that always makes her grin no matter how early or how late it is (it's why she hates getting out of bed before he wakes up – her day just doesn't start right unless she hears Killian's grumpy this-bed-is-warm-and-this-pillow-is-comfy-and-I've-woken-up-with-enough-sunrises-to-last-me-a-couple-of-lifetimes-thank-you-very-much whimper).

She knows that he prefers coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon and hot cocoa in the evening when they are sprawled out on the couch, Henry ruling over his pillow kingdom at their feet and brandishing the remote like a sword as he gives Killian all the background information he needs to _really get_ STAR WARS, and he never eats the last of the popcorn even when she has told him that she's done (she always changes her mind an hour later and he gives her his little what-were-you-saying-Swan grin which she can swallow just a bit easier than his i-told-you-so smirk).

She knows how he drags his feet just a little bit slower and drops on the cushions just a little bit more dramatically when he has had a particularly exhausting day and how he literally turns into putty in her hands when she leans her elbows on the back on the couch and starts kneading the muscles in his tense shoulders, his little moans making the ends of her fucking ears (and some other parts of her) tingle with the pleasure of bringing _him_ pleasure.

She knows how he chews on the end of a pencil, bend over Henry's textbook, whenever her son runs up to him with cries for help with his math homework (completely bypassing her, thank God) and how he grins, clapping the kid on the shoulder in enthusiasm, and looks up at her with pride shining in his eyes and she loves him loves him _loves him_, and she wants him like this always, proud and happy with himself, because he's freaking amazing and doesn't realize it even half as often as he should and sometimes she just wants to possess him (or, you know, something a little less creepy) so that he can see what she sees and be blinded by how gorgeous and sweet and adorkable and kind and smart and funny and exasperating and stunning and ugh, _everything _he is.

She knows how he picks out new jeans in less than 5 minutes but can spend a whole afternoon examining shirt patterns (she's partial to the checkered flannel ones and the ones with little flowers or little stars on them or the dark blue ones, as if his eyes weren't mesmerizing enough already, or… ok, maybe she's partial to all of them so sue her, the man looks absolutely _delectable_ in a well-fitted shirt) and she knows how he still considers ties absolutely ridiculous and useless but rather enjoyed the effects his black one had on her at Regina and Robin's wedding (yes, they tied the knot almost an year ago and _they_ had only been together for what? 6 months?!)

So, yes, she's a little exasperated. And it's not because they're not committed to each other or not satisfied with what they have, or because she feels the need for some validation or to tie him down or something. It's not like she's missing something. It's just… she has _never_ thought of marriage before. Walsh doesn't count (she would have totally said 'no', by the way, so if Killian could just retire his monkey jokes now that would be great, thank you very much) and even with Neal she had never felt secure enough, _sure_ enough, never thought about tomorrow, too focused on now (she couldn't really imagine diamond rings and funny-shaped pancakes and a front porch, she could hardly imagine a freaking bed while sleeping in the backseat of a car).

But _now_. Now she can think about tomorrow. She knows there will_ be_ a tomorrow. And they have a porch that opens right onto the beach and her silly, _silly_ man makes her swan-shaped pancakes and serves them in bed (and she should really tell him to bypass the syrup in the future because it almost didn't come out of the sheets last time) and she has never really given a rat's ass about diamond rings. And maybe next time she catches Ruby checking him out Emma wants to be able to tell her to keep her paws off _her husband_, and maybe she has been thinking that Emma Jones has a nice ring to it (and what if she has been? it's not like she has been doodling it in her binder or anything) and maybe, just maybe, she wants to make him hers in every way possible because he is the best thing she has ever head (right next to her wonderful boy who might love him just as much as she does).

And if you just scratch off all the maybe's, you get a pretty good idea of where she's at.

It's in that moment that she feels Killian shift onto his side so that his chest is presses into her shoulder and it feels lik his warmth seeps right into her soul. He buries his nose into the pillow, right beside her head, and she hears it so clearly, that disgruntled little whimper followed by his arm finding its way around her waist and pulling her closer and his nose nudging her ear.

And really it's that sound that pushes her over the edge (even if she has been barely keeping her balance for awhile now).

"Do you wanna get married?"

It comes out so easily, so casually, sounds almost as if she's asking him whether he'd like cereal for breakfast.

"Hmmm?" Killian mumbles sleepily into her hair before she feels him still beside her. "W-what was that, lass?"

His words are muffled and slurred with sleep and he sounds adorably disorientated and confused and there's not a sliver of doubt in her mind. Emma turns on her side so that she can see his face, her hand running up his left arm and coming to rest against his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his jaw as she watches him struggle to blink the sleep away.

"Will you marry me?" she asks and can't help the giggle that escapes her lips as he opens one eye, looking at her as if he's trying to figure out if she's a figment of his imagination or worse.

"Swan, am I still sleeping, going mad or are you truly propositioning me at the bloody crack of dawn?"

"Sorry?" she offers with a sheepish smile.

"Bloody hell, woman!"

Both of Killian's eyes finally snap open and by the looks of things he can't seem to decide if he's amused or outraged.

Frankly, she doesn't get it. She was, after all, the one to initiate their first kiss and their first date and some other firsts that she remembers Killian appreciating quite a bit.

"I would apologize for depriving you of a dashing proposal but you were taking awfully long so…" she grins at him, all smug and confident and he hasn't even answered her yet and if it wasn't Killian, she'd be freaking out_ so bad_ right now.

But it _is_ Killian and truthfully? She's ready to ask as many times as she needs to.

"So…" that doesn't mean she can quite suppress the blush creeping up her cheeks. "About that marrying me thing?"

"I- skies above, Emma, yes! Yes, of course, I will marry you," he shakes his head, an awed look on his face and that's the first time she actually starts to worry because his face might split in two, if he smiles any brighter at her. "I only have one request - could we perhaps keep the life-altering decisions for after 7 o'clock from now on?"

It takes _a lot_ of effort to put a pout on her face.

"Are you unhappy with the way I proposed to you?" she quirks an eyebrow at him, watching as his eyes almost boggle out of his head.

"Unha-" he literally growls and the next thing she knows Emma is on her back and there's a pirate looming over her, a devilishly handsome pirate with sleep-mussed hair and so much joy in his eyes it makes her feel like the sun is shining down on her. "Darling, nothing in the world could make me unhappy in this moment. You- bloody hell! You _are_ serious, correct?"

Winding her arms around his neck, she pulls him down until their noses are brushing and he can feel her laugher vibrating from her chest into his own.

"Yes, I decided that I've been wooing you long enough."

"Oh, _you_ have been wooing _me_, is that so?" his brows rise up and he looks like he could eat her whole and Emma cannot find it in herself to mind even a little bit.

"Well, you might have crossed a realm or two, a timeline here or there," she muses with a teasing grin on her lips and really, they should stop this because she's going to combust, if he doesn't kiss her sometime soon.

Almost as if reading her mind (doesn't he always?) Killian leans in, stopping only when he's a hair's breath away from her lips and she would be embarrassed by how she is tilting her head upward, trying to capture his elusive mouth but, as has been pointed out, this is Killian and she really can't make herself feel embarrassed around him, not about this, not about anything anymore.

"We're doing this again," he instructs her with a no nonsense look on his face. "All with the shiny ring and me on one knee and all that, you are a bloody princess after all."

Emma makes a face at that but doesn't object. She can do the whole cliché without too much complaining (she'd have to put a lot of effort into making herself complain at all, really).

"But this-" Killian shakes his head and she can't help but be pleased with herself and the fact that he's still recovering from her impromptu proposal. "This was the best… what do you call it? Wake-up call. The best wake-up call I have ever had. And I- I just- I love you, Emma. So bloody much."

"I love you too but you better seal that deal before I have changed my mi-" she doesn't get the chance to finish because his lips are already on hers.

And, damn, if he wasn't worth the 746-day wait.


End file.
